Lost and Found in Prague Read Online Free PDF Page B

cigarettes, flipped on the TV, and settled down. As a vintner, he enjoyed a nice bottle of wine with dinner. But for a good numbing jolt, he preferred a fine whiskey. How did the Americans say it,
liquor is quicker
? There was something to be said for both distillation and fermentation. He took another satisfying drink.
    He would call Beppe tomorrow, when he had a pressed suit and cassock hanging in his closet.
    •   •   •
    After gathering her checked bag, Dana went out to find a cab. She hadn’t noticed her traveling companion waiting at the carousel, and wondered,
Who travels with so little?
Then realized a man in his line of work would not require an extensive wardrobe. If he wanted to look official, he could slip on a clerical collar. As she waited, she pulled a tourist guidebook out of her carry-on. She’d have plenty of free time in Prague. Caroline had explained in a letter that she’d have no more than one free hour each day. She’d invited Dana for lunch tomorrow.
    Grilled lunch—you on one side of the grille, me on the other,
Caroline had written.
    Her cousin had always had a sense of humor, though often now the words in her letters were wrapped in such a serious tone, as if the convent had stripped her of her wit. This was obviously a joke, as Dana knew the order wasn’t cloistered in the truest sense. Caroline had explained that the nuns lived a monastic life, meaning they lived in a closed convent and adhered to a strict schedule, with much time dedicated to prayer, meditation, and solitude, though they did venture into the world to work. The small and intimate community of Discalced Carmelites consisted of fewer than a dozen nuns. From the Latin
dis
, meaning “not,” and
calceatus
, “shod.” Dana envisioned her free-spirited cousin, dancing joyfully
unshod
about the ancient convent
,
her toes wiggling without restraint. Perhaps her feet were the only part of her to experience such freedom.
    Caroline, Sister Agnes now, had written that among the nuns’ duties were caring for the altars and the priests’ vestments and attending to the Holy Infant at the Church of Our Lady Victorious. She’d also lamented that the church was beginning to take on the trappings of just that—a tourist trap. Tourists coming in and out with all their disruptive paraphernalia, cameras and guidebooks, and noisy disrespectful chatter.
    Her cab arrived and the driver helped Dana with her luggage. Easter Monday as well as Easter Sunday was a holiday throughout most of Europe, and it seemed the activity had not subsided even today as she witnessed a continuing celebration, more secular than religious, as they drove toward the city center. Throngs of people scurried about, carrying bags and backpacks. Children slurped ice cream cones, and parents snapped away, tiny cameras recording the festivities.
    The driver chatted in English, offering bits of tourist information as Dana gazed out the window. The weather could not have been more different from the damp, dark November of her first visit. The sky was a lovely clear blue, the sun highlighting the fairy-tale village with gothic spires, romantic bridges spanning the Vltava River, and narrow cobbled passages and alleyways. Years ago this had seemed mysterious in an almost sinister way, but it now appeared as if everything had been spruced up to welcome the many visitors. What had the priest said—that Prague was the new Paris?
    The cab came to an abrupt halt. A wide ditch stretched the length of the street, which was obviously being dug up—new water or sewer system, Dana guessed. This, along with restoration of one of the medieval buildings covered with plastic sheets and flanked with scaffolds, made the street impassable for a motor vehicle, other than perhaps a small motorcycle, as evidenced by one haphazardly zipping around them right now. The cabdriver turned and motioned outward.
    “No drive to hotel,” he said, shaking his head.
    “Road